Holy Land Tour Part 2

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour– Sea of Galilee (2008)

We had come down from the mountain where Jesus preached, “The Sermon”. We had visited the home of Peter’s mother-in-law and the synagogue next to it. Now we were on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. It was the place where Jesus appeared to the disciples after his resurrection. It was the place where Jesus restored his apostolic call to a Peter who had thrice denied him. I liked the metal sculpture depicting Jesus restoring Peter. It felt right to look at the large stone formation running from the church to the shore of Galilee.

I made a decision. I would walk to the seashore. I would take off my shoes and socks and stand in the shallows. Then I would hear the voice of Jesus,

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.

Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my lambs.”

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.”

My mind went back 58 years and 10 days. That was the date the bishop’s representative ad St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Tracy, California, commissioned me to serve as an officially rostered teaching minister in the Lutheran church. The text was the one above, the call to Peter.

And what a ministry it has been! (But that’s a topic for a different set of reflections.)

Holy Land Tour –Cana (2008)

It was startling! As we got off the bus to walk to the place remembered as the site of the first miracle of Jesus, I nearly walked into a huge banner hanging next to the street. I don’t remember the exact words, but the impact was there. It was something like, “Remember there is only one God, Allah, and his prophet is Mohammed.”

I refocused as we all entered a room reportedly the site of Jesus’ first miracle. We saw an excellent sample of a clay water pot capable, according to the King James version of the Bible, of holding 30 firkins of water. The first miracle!

Then we went to the chapel which Anes, our Guide, had reserved for our Sunday worship service. (A major accomplishment, as couples reserve this chapel for their wedding at all hours of the day with reservations required months in advance.) We had just come from Nazareth so we began our service with Julie doing her usual amazing and stirring introduction to the Annunciation as sung in Holden evening Vespers. “An angel sent by God, to a town called Nazareth, to a woman whose name was Mary…” And we responded with Mary’s Magnificat.

I very intentionally asked 92 year old Gerry Hendrickson to read the lesson for the day, the account of the first miracle. I wanted Gerry to read this because he was the first president of Calvary Lutheran Church. Just like Jesus began his ministry of miracles, Gerry has led and been faithful at Calvary, a congregation alive and active because of God’s continuing miracles.

We prayed very purposely at this wedding site where Jesus was present. First, I asked each of us to recall one marriage for which we especially thanked God (our own, our parents, some friends…) Each in their own way thanked God. I thanked God for Jane and our marriage of more than 57 years.

Then I asked each of us to pray for a marriage that is facing special challenges and threats. I had promised one particular Calvary couple that I would do this and I was pleased to keep this promise.

Our third prayer was for God to find a partner for someone currently unmarried but having a desire for marriage. I imagine some prayed for themselves or for a friend. I prayed for the one member of my family who is not married but would like to be. I continue to ask God to hear that prayer.

I closed with the thought, “God still changes water into wine.” There are times in our life when we run out of wine. All we have left is simple H²O. We turn that over to God and the first miracle is repeated: God once again changes the water into wine!

Tour of Israel, Palestine (Holy Land) 2008 Part 1

It has been some months since I last posted. For the next several months this Blog will contain memories, reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include the Holy Land, China Finland etc. Each blog will contain a portion of the entire reports.

HOLY LAND TOUR

Sept. 1-30, 2008

Introduction: Why Lead a Tour to The Holy Land

“No more tours!” I said it and I meant it. My participation in leading four trips to China,

one to the Footsteps of St. Paul, one to Lutherland and the Danube and one to Brazil had all been

memorable, educational and inspirational. But now I was 80 years old and it was time to quit.

“One more tour- to the Holy Land!” I announced. Why? The ageing process affords the

opportunity to reflect upon missed (or yet available) new experiences. As Jane and I together,

once again read through the four Gospels, I thought, “I’d like to walk where Jesus walked. I’d

like to sit in places where Jesus taught. Maybe I should go there - with a group.”

There was a second motive. I wanted to go to Bethlehem. In my work for Wheat Ridge

Ministries I learned more and more about the situation in Bethlehem. I listened to and was

inspired by Pastor Mitre Raheb who heads up Lutheran work in Bethlehem. I looked at pictures

of Arab kids (Christians and Muslims) studying together in our Lutheran School there. These

kids drew me to Bethlehem.

Of course there were concerns. Do I still have the physical and mental stamina to be a

group leader? Is it safe? I felt a very heavy responsibility for the security, especially also because

all in my tour group are key members of Calvary. I dare not irresponsibly lead them into harm’s

way… Support from Jane is always essential. Of course, I had no way of knowing that two

weeks before our departure she would have full hip replacement. Typically, Jane kept her

reservations about my trip to herself and supported my dream. Our kids, as is also typical of

them, were supportive with Peg coming from New Hampshire and Lyzse from Connecticut,

Dave, newly arrived in San Diego, Tim from the Bay area and John providing almost daily

contact via computer Skype conversations from Taiwan.

Then there were marvelous co-hosts: Bill and Marian Duncan. Bill handled the finances

and paper work and Marian the interpersonal stuff.

Once again absolute unconditional support came from the tour members. As anticipated,

they were responsive and wonderful. In spite of significant difference of opinions re the Middle

East political issues and the US role in them, the members remained more than civil. They could

not have been more cooperative, loving and understanding.

And so we went. We traveled safely. We ate (or just looked at) the food provided. We

found a land that instead of floating with milk and honey, flowed with wine (and cola for Al!).

I’ve said that in a way the trip was more informational than inspirational - as

commercialism and conflicting church claims at many of the Holy sites tended to remove the

aura of holiness. Yet I gained not only new information, but also moments of deep inspiration. In

the following sections I share special moments of inspiration and moments for which that

adjective does not apply.

1. Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane was a highlight, a place of deep reflection and spiritual

awakening. As we drove across the Brook Kidron my anticipation heightened. The chapel in the

Garden was quietly affecting my mood. Then we entered the Garden. I looked for and found the

oldest of the olive trees, gnarled, ancient, sturdy, still bearing fruit. Some, I believe have been

there since the days our Lord went to pray among them.

We found a quiet spot where all who chose could sit.

We sang,

“Go to dark Gethsemane,

Ye who feel the tempter's power.

Your Redeemer's conflict see.

Watch with Him one bitter hour.

Turn not from His griefs away.

Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.”

Judy read reverently and movingly the account of the agony and prayer of our

Lord under those old olive trees, and of the sleepy eyes of the disciples which just kept being

closed in sleep.

For us gathered there the climax came in the Holy Communion. We had previously been

in Cana where Jesus turned water into wine. I had secured wine from Cana. The previous day we

had been in Bethlehem. There I had secured individual communion cups, chalice shaped, made

of olive wood. The bread was a full loaf baked in Jerusalem. As Christ invited, we did this to

remember Him and in that moment, He too, remembered this little band of 33 from a church

named Calvary!

Addendum: We lingered in the Garden. We had our group picture taken there. We went

to the edge of the Garden. We looked over the burial tombs of centuries of Jewish brothers and

sisters. We looked across the Brook Kidron to the upper room, to the home of Caiaphas the high

priest, to the city of Jerusalem.

And I recalled Jesus sitting there. Sitting there and weeping over Jerusalem. He wept, He

said, because Jerusalem had not been able to secure the peace God intended for that place.

Now 2000 years later I felt Jesus sitting next to me. Again He weeps. Not yet has peace

come to Jerusalem, nor to so many other major cities of the world. I felt the tears of Jesus mingle

with mine.

Ageing Update

This I know: Nobody else really cares about my ageing. This I also know: anyone who reads this blog is in the same process as I. So here are a few of my personal reflections and I really would be pleased to hear how you are doing.

First the good news: My body is okay. As long as I do my exercises and drink my two glasses of red wine a day things go pretty well. I have not been able to get my Dr. to actually officially prescribe those two glasses of red wine a day so Medicare does not reimburse me for my now 3-Buck Chuck. My golf drives get shorter and shorter. The other day I had to use a 5 iron to reach a green only 130 yards away and I can’t blame age for my lousy putting. Fortunately there are some things that my brain still handles okay. I recently was able to give a brief 3-point speech without having to consult my manuscript.

With age my concepts of God and my vision of reality keep getting expanded more and more.

Yet ageing is obvious, especially when I sit down at this darn computer. I screw up all the time, get frustrated every time I try to use this machine which I cannot get along without and which drives me to distraction when I use it and it doesn’t stop me from writing run-on sentences.

I keep forgetting numbers. Can’t even remember a house number that I had memorized when I had left my home. I left behind (so far not retrieved) my annual calendar which had not only my appointments but also my phone contacts, prescriptions,and computer passwords!

My lack of alertness bothers me especially after someone honks at me when I made a right turn on red in front of him or her. (I KNOW THIS COULD GET SERIOUS!)

I notice now that occasionally people show deference to me because to them I obviously appear as “ an old man”. I also notice that others now seek my opinion or consultation much less frequently and when I give my suggestions they seem to be ignored more often.

So I wake up each morning especially grateful that my wife Jane is patient with me, that she is the one who insisted that we move to this retirement community, that we can still afford the monthly payments (even after working for the church virtually my whole life), that I have a family which supports me even though we just cancelled the planned visit of all six of my sisters, two sisters-in-law and one brother because within 48 hours one had unexpected cancer surgery and another had to accompany a spouse to the hospital for urgent blood vessel work.

So that’s the word for today. I will put it in my calendar that next November I will again give an update provided I remember and/or don’t lose my calendar…and am still among the living.

Survivors of Torture

 I spent most of yesterday in jail. It was in the US Detention Center near the Mexican border. Thank God I was not a detainee. I was there, however, on behalf of a particular class of detainees, survivors of torture in other countries who are seeking asylum in the USA. There are at least 2,000 of these every year. (Probably as many as 5000,000 refugees in America were tortured prior to their arrival in the USA). They arrive having escaped torture in their home country, but not yet having all the papers to legally stay in the USA. Unfortunately, they are placed in the same prison with all others who are held for illegal entry or are waiting to be sent back to their country of origin.

I went there because I am on the Board of Directors of a local organization called Survivors of Torture, International. Our mission is to identify legitimate asylum seekers who were tortured in their home country, had to flee for their lives and are seeking a new life in America.

I am getting to know these brothers and sisters personally. Just this week: A woman from a Middle Eastern country. Her teen-aged son foolishly wrote a less than friendly note about his country’s leader in one of his computer tweets. He was identified, told that he was “dead”: He made it home. Fortunately his mother had the resources to buy a ticket for her son and herself to the USA (leaving behind her husband and other children). Of course, when she landed in the USA she did not have a visa. She was sent to a prison detention center; she to one, her 14 year old son to another!

Another survivor: Her family was pro–USA, but the real offence her father committed was to send this daughter to school. The Taliban stopped her on her way home from school, told her to drop out. She went back to school. She was stopped again. The persons who stopped her found she had an English as a second language textbook with her. They came to the house, took away her father and killed him. She is a Survivor seeking asylum in the USA.

There are stories like this every day. Survivors of Torture, Inc. (started with the assistance of a Wheat Ridge Ministries grant some ten years ago) assists these brothers and sisters get legal status, helps them find doctors who assist with their physical and psychological trauma. Sad disclosure: I have yet to meet an adult female asylum seeker who was NOT raped!

My efforts are feeble in the light of the need. I raise funds for the organization. I met with and wrote the Warden at the Detention Center expressing my thanks to him for protecting me from people who want to hurt America but also asking him to treat humanly those who are here because they believe the invitation on the Statue of liberty, “Give me your tired, your homeless, your tempest -tossed, those yearning to be free”. And I am working for Congress to pass legislation separating asylum seekers from suspected criminals like the gentleman of whom I heard yesterday. He was in Afghanistan assisting a USA helicopter force. He was threatened. He fled. When he got here he was handcuffed, incarcerated, treated like a violent criminal. Tough calls: but I want to be sure that I am on the side of those who are truly Survivors of Torture.

Lutheran International and Urban Schools Symposium : Reflecting, Rejoicing and Regretting

I have just returned from a symposium to which I looked forward with much anticipation. My colleague Marlene Lund from the Center for Urban Education Ministries had helped pulled together a symposium of some 60 Lutheran educators from around the world. Her hope was that by combining leaders from international schools with those of urban Lutheran schools in the USA new learnings might emerge and new relationships might be formed. A part of that goal was well achieved, some of it not very well. Here is a sample of a few of my Reflections, Rejoicings and Regrets

I rejoiced to look at the cities/countries from which these Lutheran school leaders came: Hong Kong, Hanoi, New York, Australia, China, Ghana, Frankenmuth, Papau New Guinea. It continues to thrill me to image kids from each of these places having the opportunity to learn and grow and to have faith born and sustained in every one of those places. I regretted to see no-one from any South American or European country there.

I appreciated looking at titles of the participants: Executive Director of International Education, Science Teacher, Head of School, Evangelist. Board Member, Treasurer, Elementary Teacher. Of course, many of them could also have identified themselves as “parents”. It takes all kinds of expertise to make schools places of growth. I regretted seeing no title or position related to a denomination head or regional offices such as at a church-wide, synod or district. It again pointed to the quickening demise of denominational leadership in the USA.

I thought about the contrast between the small, very financially poor Lutheran school struggling in, for example, Ghana, and the relative wealth of international schools in places like Hong Kong and Shanghai. Yet as I spoke with heads of those schools of whatever country or size they all spoke of the on-going challenge of responding to parent’s concern or lack thereof.

It was wonderful to see the representation from Lutheran colleges and universities and their departments of international studies. (I reflected upon the fact that way back in 1968 I was asked to start up the first one of such in the LCMS but decided my educational career was headed in another direction.) I wondered what insights we would have learned had there been one there from the largest Lutheran University in the world – in Brazil. It has 32,000 students on campus out of a total of some 140,000 in their extended network.

I enjoyed looking at names like Gyamfi Kwadwo, Betty Lingenfelter, Philip Ohene-Abrefa, Moyo Tawango. And Tarirai Doreen. I regretted seeing no names of obvious Hispanic heritage. The highlight for me was the keynote address by Martin Schmidt. His theme was “Grace and Vocation”. He challenged all Lutheran schools to be places where students and staff experience grace, a God who cares about and loves all creation and vocation and the calling for each one of us to be of service and ministry in and to the world. He gave marvelous examples of how teachers at all levels can lead their students into this wonderful direction. I left this symposium just as more than 3000 teachers in Lutheran schools from all over were gathering for a three day convocation. I bowed my head in respect for them and in prayer that each of their students might indeed discover and live out Grace and Vocation.

Legacy

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Legacy

What legacy will I leave when I die? No, I am not morbidly contemplating my last days. However, just this last week I had several little nudges that stirred me in the direction of contemplating my legacy.

The first was a radio interview regarding our recently sacked San Diego mayor, He admitted to grossly inappropriate (even illegal) behavior in sexually harassing women of all ages. When asked about the specifics of his guilty plea the attorney being interviewed stated “I think what the ex-mayor is sort of calculating is his legacy and very specifically: what will be in the first two lines of his obituary when it is published in the media upon his death.” Interesting. What will be in the first few lines of one’s obituary. Will it be very dependent upon whoever happens to write that obituary or will there be general agreement, “Yes, this is Mel’s legacy.”

I happened to mention this to my daughter Liz who is in private family therapy practice. She told me that she had just seen several clients in which there were significant challenges in mother-daughter relationships. She told me that she had asked the mothers to consider: “Many years from now when your daughters will be recalling your late life, what is it that you hope they will remember about you?’ That is another legacy question.

I have now been retired for 20 years. Tomorrow I go to an international education symposium on Lutheran education. There I will listen to the latest in the “Kieschnick Lecture Series” an endowed endeavor set up by my friends at the time of my retirement. Most of the people at that lecture will never have heard of Mel Kieschnick and I surely get that! The person delivering the lecture is much younger than I and we have spent little time together. But I have read his speech and is it good stuff. It is about his dreams and visions for international Lutheran schools.

That is good. And as I listen I will be reflecting upon my dreams and my nightmares; my successes and my failures, my satisfactions and my regrets. I will be driven again to my vision of a God who is loving and forgiving.  And I trust God’s verdict as to what my legacy shall be.

Childhood Memories: Regrets

(Note: This is the last of the series in my blog re Childhood Memories. These were written primarily for my grandchildren. Possibly some others may find them of interest.)

I was blessed to have a wonderful childhood. There was food and clothing, wonderful parents, good modeling, strong spiritual direction. My memories are overwhelmingly positive. When I asked myself, “What do I regret about my childhood?” I found the list to be very small. Here are just two little items on my lists of regrets.

I never learned to swim. Mother made a note in my Baby Book: “He always enjoyed his baths till he was eight months old when we took him into the Gulf of Mexico at Galveston. From then on until he was over a year he never liked his bath.” I learned to enjoy my bath but never flowing or deep water. Of course there was very little deep water in Central Texas. I certainly never had access to swimming pool. I do recall that when I was quite young, Teacher Meier of our Lutheran parochial school went swimming in the San Gabriel River, got caught in some quicksand and drowned! I decided to not get into any water deeper than about 6 inches. But then came high school. A group of us boys headed for Barton Springs in Austin. They all jumped in. I could not be chicken so I jumped in too, actually swam a ways and then panicked. Made it back to shore completely traumatized. I tried to hide my embarrassment. And I never learned to swim. I regret that and it led me to resolve that when my kids grew up in Hong Kong they would learn to swim. If I should ever find myself in deep water today (of whatever kind) I hope my kids will be there to rescue me.

I also never learned to dance. It was the teaching of my local congregation that “dancing is a sin”. It would have been cause of significant scandal if any of the Kieschnick Family was ever seen on a dance floor! Later, even though my beliefs about dancing changed I never learned. Jane, my wife has a wonderful sense of rhythm and she knew how to dance. I was clumsy, self-conscious and not fun anywhere near a dance floor. Now I really regret that. I would love even now at 85 to join my friends here at La Costa Glen (and elsewhere) and enjoy a waltz etc. but instead I just sit and watch and dream; but I do know that if I tried to learn now it would be a disaster all the way around. So I write about my regret and move on.